The Traveler

“Yes. Only the fish are subatomic particles. Quantum theory has shown us that, for a very short period of time, particles of matter go off into different dimensions and then return.”

“Just like a Traveler.”

“And that’s what happened, Michael. During our first experiments with the quantum computer we began to get messages from another realm. At first we didn’t know what was going on. We thought it was an error in the software program. Then one of our scientists realized that we had received binary versions of standard mathematical equations. When we sent off similar messages, we began to receive diagrams that showed us how to create a more powerful computer.”

“And that’s how you built this machine?”

“Actually, this is our third version. It’s been a continual process of evolution. Whenever we improved our computer, we could receive more advanced information. It was like building a series of powerful radios. With each new receiver you could hear more words, obtain more information. And we’ve learned about things other than computers. Our new friends have taught us how to manipulate chromosomes and create different hybrid species.”

“What do they want?” Michael asked.

“This other civilization knows all about the Travelers and I think they’re a little bit jealous.” Nash looked amused. “They’re trapped in their own realm, but they’d like to visit our world.”

“Is that possible?”

“The quantum computer has been tracking you as you’ve crossed the barriers. That’s why we placed the wires in your brain. You’re the scout who’s going to provide a road map for our new friends. If you cross over to another realm, they’ve promised to send us the design for an even more powerful machine.”

Michael stepped closer to the quantum computer and watched the little flashes of lightning. Nash thought that he understood power in all its forms, but Michael suddenly realized the limits of the general’s vision. The Brethren were so obsessed with controlling humanity that they weren’t looking very far down the road. I’m the gatekeeper, Michael thought. I’m the person who controls what happens. If this other civilization really wants to enter our world, then I’ll decide how that might occur.

He took a deep breath, and then stepped back from the quantum computer. “Very impressive, General. We’re going to achieve some great things together.”

47

Maya took a wrong turn in the desert and got lost looking for the abandoned missile base. It was late in the day by the time she found the barbed-wire fence and the broken gate.

She felt comfortable wearing dark custom-tailored clothing, but that would have drawn attention in this environment. While she was in Las Vegas, she had gone to a Salvation Army store and bought drawstring pants, skirts, and tops-nothing too tight around the shoulders and legs. That afternoon, Maya was wearing a cotton pullover and a pleated skirt-like something a British schoolgirl would wear. On her feet were steel-toed mechanic’s shoes, very effective when used with a roundhouse kick.

She got out of the van, slung the sword carrying case over her shoulder, and then glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. That was a mistake. Her tangled black hair looked like a bird’s nest. It doesn’t matter, Maya thought. I’m just here to protect him. She marched over to the gate, hesitated, and then felt compelled to return to the van. Maya was furious-almost shouting with rage-as she brushed her hair. Fool, she thought. Bloody fool. You’re a Harlequin. He doesn’t care about you. When she was done, she threw the brush into the van with an angry flick of the wrist.

The desert air was getting cooler and dozens of king snakes were out, slithering across the asphalt road. Because no one was watching her, she drew the sword and kept it ready in case one of the reptiles got too close. This acknowledgment of her own fear was even more frustrating than the incident with the hairbrush. They’re not dangerous, she told herself. Don’t be a coward.

All these angry thoughts disappeared as she approached the little trailer parked beside the windmill. Gabriel was sitting at the picnic table beneath the parachute sunscreen. When he saw her, he stood up and waved. Maya studied his face. Did he look different? Had he changed? Gabriel smiled as if he’d just come back from a long journey. He looked glad to see her again.

“It’s been nine days,” he said. “I started to worry about you when you didn’t show up last night.”

“Martin Greenwald sent me a message through the Internet. He hadn’t heard from Sophia, so he thought everything was all right.”

The trailer door popped open. Sophia Briggs came out with a plastic pitcher and some cups. “And everything is all right at this particular moment. Good afternoon, Maya. Welcome back.” Sophia placed the pitcher on the table and looked at Gabriel. “Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“He crossed the four barriers,” she told Maya. “You’re defending a Traveler.”